Close to Home
by shadow332
Summary: Follow the men of TF-303 as they track down the First Horseman. Takes place before MW1. Some events from the game will be mentioned but focuses mainly on new characters.
1. Prologue

AN: This story takes place a few months before the events of the first game. Nikoli in the first chapter is not the same Nikolai who is rescued by Price in the game.

The main antagonist, Anatoly Petrov, is the First Horseman from MW1, who was only mentioned but never named in the game. The story revolves around the men of Task Force 303, a collection of special operation forces from several countries, as they try to track down Petrov.

Since this takes place before the events of the first game, the airport attack is not the same that Makarov launches in the game.

Task Force 303 is made up of men from Britain, United States, and Australia. Main focus will be on Jake Declan, David Parker, and Mac, former SAS members in the task force, but other perspectives will be written about.

Declan, Parker, and Mac are veteran operators that have been in the SAS for several years. I guess you could compare them to the Price-Gaz-Soap combination in the first game, core protagonists.

Guys, this is my first story I've written so I probably will forget to include things that will keep the story straight. So please review and give me any feedback, good, bad, or telling me how you hate the story.

* * *

The doors shut as the last of the six men boarded the freight elevator. Before the doors were closed, the men were already unpacking their duffle bags. Each man carried a black canvas bag, which were promptly dropped to the floor of the elevator and unzipped. From each, an assortment of weaponry was pulled: six G36K rifles, several Uzi submachine guns, dozens of 100 round C-Mags for each weapon, as well as a dozen grenades. The six men began loading their weapons in silence as the elevator dinged once, S3. Two of the men removed their oversized winter coats, revealing bulletproof vests underneath. They began stuffing grenades into pockets as the elevator dinged once more, S2. By the time the elevator dinged a third time, all six men were standing, fully armed. They stood two by two facing the doors. The leader of the group, standing on the left, pulled the black balaclava down over his face. When it was snug and fit tight, the final ding announced the elevator had arrived at the main level. As the elevator jerked lightly to a stopped, the leader said coldly, "Remember, no witnesses."

The doors opened, revealing a brightly lit concourse level of the Warsaw Frederic Chopin Airport Terminal 2. The leader of the group, Anatoly Petrov took one step out of the elevator and raised his G36 to his shoulder. The dull and mundane noise of the airport terminal was shattered by a burst of 5.56mm rounds. A dozen rounds shattered the windows of a small coffee shop, tearing into the several civilians standing in line. Blood splattered the glass and walls as the civilians collapsed. The terminal was now full of screams and gunfire as the five others stepped out of the elevator and began firing towards anyone and everyone they saw.

The last to step out of the elevator was the newest member of the cell, Nikoli Tarkov. As he stepped out, he saw an airport security guard on the second level run across the terrace for a shot at the cell members. He raised his G36 and placed the red holographic dot on the guards chest. He pulled the trigger and three rounds shot out of the barrel and into the guard's chest. As he dropped to the floor dead, Nikoli moved on and rejoined his comrades that had already began moving through the terminal. There were already several hundred bodies of dead and dying civilians on the ground, pools of blood beneath each. The scene was chaos, choreographed chaos.

The six men worked their way around the terminal. As they came to a stairwell leading to the second level, Petrov signaled with his left hand and said, "Vlad, take 'em up."

Nikoli joined Vlad and another member of the cell as they darted up the stairs to the second level. The second level of the terminal ran along with the lower level, providing not only opportunities to shoot down to the second level, but also the new targets on the level. Vlad led the group up the several flights of steps. As his head peaked over the stairs, another security guard was twenty meters in front of him, his pistol raised. He fired a single round that went wide of Vlad and shattered a television monitor behind him. Vlad continued unfazed as he raised his own weapon and fired a half dozen rounds into the guard's chest, sending him tumbling backwards. The group of three continued sweeping the upper levels of the terminal. Nikoli could hear the screams coming from below as Petrov and his group killed civilians by the dozens without remorse. It took almost seven minutes, but they had finally cleared the upper level, atleast three hundred civilians lay dead on the top level alone. They came to another stairwell and the group of three rushed down to rejoin with their other comrades. The two groups met, but not before massacring two dozen civilians that were herded into a cross-fire of the two converging groups.

Petrov approached Vlad as he put a new magazine into the rifle, "Are we clear?"

"Da."

"Good, time to leave. Nikoli, lead us out."

Nikoli nodded his head as he moved to the front and led the group towards a new section of the terminal. Several meters ahead was a maintenance door, their exit. The door had a keypad lock above the handle. Nikoli approached the door and tapped several buttons before the small light flashed green. He swung the door open and held it as Petrov went through first. The assault had lasted just over fifteen minutes from the first shot fired by Petrov, and the cell was now leaving without a casualty. Vlad was the last through the door. The six foot four, bald Russian walked by Nikoli. The cold blue eyes showed no emotion after the atrocity that he just took part in. As Nikoli eyed the Russian, the pale bald head turned to a puff of pink mist. A bullet struck Vlad in the back of his head, striking his brain. Blood and brain matter was sprayed over Nikoli and the door.

Before Vlad's body crumpled to the floor, Nikoli had turned and found the shooter, a lone guard forty meters away crouched near the large glass entrance. Nikoli instinctively crouched to one knee and placed the red dot on the guards chest and fired. The 5.56mm rounds tore into the guards neck and chest as he fired once more. The pistol round hit the wall a meter to the right of Nikoli sending chunks of plaster in all directions. Nikoli scanned the terminal for signs of any other guards or police; there were none.

A member of the cell had returned to the door, "What the hell happened," he screamed as he dragged the lifeless body of their comrade through the door into the maintenance tunnel. Before shutting the door, Nikoli took the butt of his rifle and smashed it against keypad, rendering it useless before he slammed the door behind him.


	2. Revelation

Nikoli's eyes shot open, the door slamming shut in his dream continued to echo through his head. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose as he swung his legs off of the bunk and sat up. He reached down and grabbed a shirt that was on the bunk and wiped his face. When tossed it back to the bunk, it was covered in sweat.

The dark room was a far cry from what he was used to, of course, he also wasn't used to being on a ship for a week straight either. As he stood, he reached for his watch that lay on the small desk situated next to the bunk. The dim green display read 1:17. He set the watch back onto the desk and instead grabbed a bottle of water that was half empty. The heat was affecting Nikoli for the worse, and the only water he dare drink had to come from the bottles the cell had brought on board. After finishing the last few drops of water, he reached back and found the shirt drenched in sweat, put it on, and opened the hatch which led to the lighted interior of one of the ships several corridors.

The ship was well over thirty years old, the rust was slowly taking over, but it served its purpose. As Nikoli moved from his room to the corridor, he felt the rush of warm air on his skin. The ship was somewhere in the Indian Ocean, hugging the coast of Africa to avoid any unnecessary attention. There was also a skeleton crew aboard, the five cell members who survived the airport assault, as well as fifteen men who crewed the ship, which Petrov had hired out for this job.

It had taken just under a week to meet with the ship, and they had been at sea for a week already, but Nikoli still had a long journey ahead of him. Even though the airport attack, which left over one thousand civilians dead, happened only two weeks prior, it felt like a lifetime ago for Nikoli. Every moment he was haunted by the thoughts of the people he had gunned down in cold blood.

Nikoli couldn't worry about that now though, he had a more important task as he moved through the stairwells and finally appeared on the deck of the ship. The only light that shown was the bridge lights and no one was on the deck, _perfect_, Nikoli thought. He moved his was to the stern of the ship as he continued to look for signs of anyone on the deck.

When he reached the stern, he rested his arms on the railing, leaning against it as stared at the half moon in the sky. After waiting several moments, he reached in his pocket and retrieved a small device. He dangled his arm over the side of the ship and began flicking the flashlight on and off very quickly. He didn't know where, but somewhere out at sea, a periscope was poking above the water and recording the ship and all activities on it. The periscope would easily pick up the flashing red light signaling a message in Morse code, or so that's what he had been told. Halfway through the message, Nikoli heard a voice behind him, it was Petrov.

"You thought you could fool me, Nikoli?" Petrov appeared from the shadows and walked towards Nikoli.

"Anatoly no--" Nikoli began, but was cut off as Petrov raised a pistol and fired point-blank, striking Nikoli in the temple just above his right eye.

The lifeless body collapsed onto the deck, blood pouring out of the head wound. Petrov walked over to the body, and fired two more rounds into Nikoli's back. He turned and shouted in Russian. Two members of the original cell, Alexei and Kiril appeared from the pilot house and picked up the body, tossing it into the sea.

Petrov noticed the small flashlight on the deck lying in a pool of blood. He picked it up and examined it briefly before tossing it into the sea as well.

"C.I.A. му́сор," he said as he walked back to the pilot house.

"Da, garbage," agreed Kiril as he followed Petrov to the pilot house.


	3. Old Faces

Jacob Declan sat in the waiting room patiently, even though he had been there for--he checked his wristwatch--close to a half an hour. He had nothing to do but sit patiently and wait for the brunette woman seated behind the desk to call his name and buzz him through the doors. The thought of walking through the doors without the ladies permission had crossed his mind, but then wondered how good it would feel to be shot in the back, especially by a woman. He would never live that one down at the Winchester.

A soft voice broke the silence of the room, "Leftenant Declan, the colonel will see you now in Conference B."

Declan got to his feet almost instantly, and strode past the seated woman, who he figured was, in her late twenties, but still damn good looking for a woman in uniform.

"Any chance you could help me find Conference B Sergeant," he searched for her name, "Forrester?"

"Big boy like you," She started, as she looked up from her work, "I think you'll manage Leftenant."

The door buzzed as it unlocked and Declan proceeded through, taking one last look at Sergeant Forrester, who showed a faint blush as she glanced at Declan before he disappeared into the hallway.

As Declan walked through the hall, something strange struck him; there seemed to be no one else in the building. As he rounded a corner he saw a single man standing in the hall a distance in front of him. As he got closer, he recognized the man as his old friend and commanding officer, David Parker.

"Did I just stumble into a retirement home by chance," Declan said as he approached Parker.

"Better be careful, you'll stumble into an arse kicking," Parker said with a smirk as the two shook hands.

"Its been a damn long time sir, good to see you alive."

"Likewise Dec," It had been over nine months since the two friends had seen each other, "How'd my replacement work out?"

"Well," Declan began, "I was glad to see he was bumped to a better position _out_ of the field," Both men chuckled slightly.

"So what is all this sir?" Declan asked as he raised his hands, motioning to the building, "This where you disappear to all those months ago?"

Parker pulled the handle and swung the door to Conference B open, "Why don't you come find out."

* * *

Declan was getting a bit nervous, but showed no signs of it, after twenty minutes of what sweating through what seemed like a mix between a post mission report and an interview. Two colonels sat opposite of him across an oak conference table. File after file of classified operations that Declan had participated in were discussed openly, something never done. As the last of the files was closed and placed atop the pile of others, one of the colonels spoke.

"Well leftenant, except for a few minor," his eyes met Parker's, who was leaning against a window ledge, before returning to Declan, "discrepancies, there is really nothing wrong about your operational performance. Captain Parker has mentioned your name on more than several occasions in the past," He took a deep breath before continuing, "So we see no problem with your introduction, welcome to Task Force Three-Oh-Three Leftenant."

Declan was surprised and stunned, it took him a moment, "I'm sorry sir, Task Force Three-Oh-Three?" Declan said glancing towards Parker looking for some sort of guidance or help.

"Yes, TF-303, several American generals decided to put it together a year or so ago. Sort of a combined op, American, British, and Australian operators all based under a single command element. We've already found that with the single element instead of multiple, that we put boots on the ground faster than ever before."

"You said American and Australian operators, who happens to control this group?" Declan pondered.

"Rotational command every six months, the Americans picked it back up several weeks ago," the colonel stood up and picked up the stack of files, "Captain Parker can fill you in more if you wish, good luck leftenant."

Salutes were exchanged as the two colonels left the conference room leaving only Parker and Declan standing.

"See what sort of nonsense you get dragged into when I'm not around to make decisions for you," Declan said to Parker once the door had shut.

"Aw it's not too bad, nice little pay bonus goes along with it. Plus," Parker said as he left his spot on the wall, "Mac's on board with us."

"Well we have the old team together at least," Declan said.

"Plus the cream of the crop from SBS and 3 Para. Good group of lads."

"Not as good as the ones we had when we were back in Afghanistan though, remember those good times?"

Parker laughed when he heard Declan's remark, "By 'good times' you mean being surrounded for two days be Taliban rebels?"

Declan smiled, "That'd be it."

Parker walked towards the door and pulled it open, the two men exited the room to the hallway, "Well I hope you liked those good times, 'cause I'm throwin' your arse straight into it. Mock-up in an hour, Warehouse 13; don't be late."

* * *

"What do you mean they lost contact?"

"The _Hawaii_ was observing a flash message inside the designated time frame. Halfway through, the XO witnessed three bright flashes on the deck, then nothing else," the aide said, still standing although bracing for the furious rage that would soon be coming.

Vance however withheld, as took a long deep breath, and calmly said, "So is the _Hawaii_ still trailing them?"

The look on the aide's face said it all, "No, the _Hawaii_ lost contact as the ship docked in Mogadishu, that was four hours ago."

Vance looked down at his desk, fourteen months of work, ended in a night. "We have to assume that Nikoli is dead. Damn it, he was our only solid connection straight to Petrov. Now all we have is--what, a half sent message that says, **Paki**** 4.16 ****Targe**- not much to act on now is it?"

"No sir."

"Contact local field offices and have all available assets in the damn Eastern Hemisphere track down this bastard. Get a Keyhole on station, I want one on standby at all times."

"Yes sir."

"Also get all this out to the Three-Oh-Three immediately."

As the aide shut the door, Vance looked back down at the open folder on his desk. The contents, mostly classified papers for the highest levels of the C.I.A. were displayed. One of those papers was a grainy black and white photo.

"What are you up to now," Vance said aloud as he stared at the picture of Anatoly Petrov.

* * *

The last cartridge hadn't even finished rattling on the deck before Parker was yelling, "It's gotta be quicker and faster than this lads."

For the last three hours, ten men had been running through the same mock-up, Declan had stopped counting when he reached sixteen.

"We've got to secure this pilot house within ninety seconds, otherwise, they'll pucker up and were compromised. So, once more gentleman."

The ten men returned to the starting position and once more ran through the mock-up. Simulated targets appeared at random throughout the staged ship as the ten assaulted the pilot house. It was another hour before Parker ended the training, it was time for the real deal. The team cleaned their weapons, packed equipment and ammo into cases, and prepared to deploy; to where, none of them knew. Declan learned quickly, that this was just another day, in Task Force 303.

As the plane was crossing over Southern Europe several hours later, Declan was awoken by Parker, "Target's docked in Mogadishu, need to work on a new plan."


	4. Morning Surprise

The sun was beginning to rise behind the flight of aircraft, blinding anyone looking towards them until the last possible moment, just as they had planned it. The nimble aircraft, two MH-6 Little Birds along with a single AH-6 attack variant, cruised towards the Somali coast at 1,000 feet.

"Sixty seconds Captain, better grab ahold of something," the pilot of Talon-Six-One said through the com system of the Little Bird.

After hearing the announcement by the pilot, the four men seated on fold down platforms, reached for whatever they could find and grabbed on tight. This was more for reassurance; the men were securely fastened by D-clips attached to their tactical vests.

Seated on the left side of the helicopter, Declan could see the other Little Bird carrying six other members of TF-303, cruising a mere fifteen meters away. One of the operators on Talon-Six-Two flashed a thumbs up to Declan as the two helicopters jerked, beginning their descent towards Mogadishu Harbor.

The target ship was anchored at the end of the only pier in the New Port. Two large warehouses lay between where the ship was docked and the main port area, which was littered with hundreds of shacks, pick-ups, and other debris that had cluttered the city for years.

"Cujo-Three-One, clear the El-Zed," Parker shouted into the comset before pulling the headset off his head and stuffing it back into a bin attached to the side of the Little Bird.

Cujo-Three-One, the AH-6 attack helicopter, darted to the front of the flight and swept in low from the north. Making an arc around the harbor, the AH-6 swept across the ship, sending a dozen men diving to the deck. The helicopter continued across the pier at five meters, creating a dust storm filled with debris strewn around the area. Several hundred men, women, and children were sent scattering away back towards the city as the helicopter herded people away from the targeted ship.

Moments later, Talon Flight appeared from the ocean and touched down on their designated landing zones. Six-Two landed on the pier and six operators deployed, who then quickly rushed off towards cover, before they began locking the area down. Six-One, which carried Declan, Parker, Mac and a sergeant from 3 Para named Corbin, landed on the ship itself. Cargo containers on the deck created an elevated, level area for the Little Bird to sweep in and drop off its precious cargo.

As the helicopter made its approach, Declan saw several men holding AK-47 rifles appear from the stows of the ship. Declan raised his C8 carbine and quickly sighted three men moving towards them. He fired a quick burst of five rounds that struck the men, dropping them dead. The Little Bird hovered less than a meter off of the containers as the four men jumped off the seating platforms. With the operators clear, the helicopter cleared the deck as rounds began striking the metal frame.

With their cargo dropped off, and running low on fuel, the three aircraft checked with the men on the ground before announcing their departure back towards the sea. The ten men were now stuck in an unfriendly city hundreds of kilometers from any support.

"Targets left side," Parker shouted as he stood up from behind the cover of a container and fired a volley of rounds towards the pilot house.

Declan was crouched in front of Parker behind the container. He could hear the ping of bullets ricocheting off becoming a consistent noise. As Parker ducked down, a volley was returned at them striking the containers sending sparks in all directions. Several seconds later, Declan peaked out from the cover, still crouched, and lined up two tangos as they tried to rush forward towards the operators.

The rounds from his C8 tore into the first target, blood splattering his shirt. The second was hit in the torso and fell to the deck limp. His cries echoing over the gunfire that was erupting around him sank into Declan.

Upon hearing the cries, Declan poked his head out just enough to see the tango inching his way for ward, one hand grasping his wound while the other gripped his Kalashnikov. Declan leaned out and fired the final two rounds of his magazine into the man, killing him and ending the shrieks of pain.

The team had been on the ship for maybe just over a minute, but what seemed like an eternity to the four men. Already a dozen targets lay on the deck dead but more kept appearing from the pilot house.

Parker cursed as more rounds streaked near his head by mere inches. He reached to his throat and held the transmit button on his mic, "Dagger-Two, this is One, copy?"

"Roger One, send it."

"Two can you suppress the bridge from your location, over."

The response came several moments later, "Uh roger we'll try, give us a second to get into position."

As the firefight raged on the ship, two men from Dagger-Two broke away from their position at the first warehouse, and rushed back towards the ship, nearly three hundred meters behind them. The two operators took position behind a derelict technical that had been left when the helicopters first appeared.

"One we're in position."

From his crouched position, Declan looked back at Parker as he said, "Do it."

Upon hearing the command, two Mk 46 light machine guns opened up onto the bridge and pilot house. Hundreds of rounds tore into the metal structure destroying equipment, machinery and human tissue. While the bridge was suppressed, Parker shouted for his team to advance up out of the open area and towards the bridge.

They moved quickly, Declan and Parker on the starboard side of the ship while Mac and Corbin advanced on the port. They quickly covered the distance, converging at a point underneath the bridge as the suppressing fire from the Mk 46s ceased. A single target was caught between the middle of the two converging parties and was hit by at least a dozen rounds from the rifles of both Declan and Mac.

"Thanks for the assist Two," Parker said, "We're beginning the search now, tell us if things get hot topside."

Crouching besides the other three men, Declan was in the middle of reloading his rifle when a sound caught his attention. He looked up, across the small harbor, towards Mogadishu. Smoke columns filled the air at the entrance to the port, with horns and loudspeakers blaring but inaudible from the distance.

"We better hurry this along Parker, sounds like we're gonna have visitors soon."

"Too right mate," Mac chimed in as he looked out towards the city.

"Right, Dec, Mac, secure the bridge, gather anything you can find," he looked at Corbin, "We're heading downstairs."

The two pairs split at the stairwell, Parker and Corbin took a left and proceeded down the stairs while Declan and Mac continued straight through the corridor into the room laden, two story bridge structure.

After checking several rooms that were empty, Declan heard a noise from inside a room they were about to pass.

"Door," Declan whispered as he held up his fist signaling for Mac to stop.

Declan grabbed a grenade from his tactical vest and whispered, "Flash out."

A cylindrical grenade left Declan's hand as it bounced off of the opened door and into the room. A shout was heard as the grenade went off. Declan stormed into the room, rifle at the ready followed close behind by Mac. Cowering in the corner was a middle aged man, hunched over holding his face with his left hand.

"Hands, lemme see em!"

The man was still hunched over clutching his head with his left hand but his right was blocked from view by his body.

"Hands," Declan shouted once more, "Let me see your hands!"

He was three meters from Declan, who was about to approach the man and give his a good taste of his rifle butt to the back, when Mac shouted a warning, "Gun."

Instinctively, Declan fired two rounds into the man's torso, followed by a single round to his head. The body slammed against the wall of the room, blood splattering the corner. The body fell in a sort of sitting position, and Declan noticed the barrel of a pistol protruding from underneath the body.

"Good eyes Mac," Declan said as he lowered his rifle and turned his back on the body.

"Someone's gotta look after you," Mac said with a grin before turning towards the door and checking the corridor once more.

Declan began searching a desk that was stuffed against the far side of the room. Dozens of loose papers cluttered the top of it.

"Ah not much here," Declan said with despair.

"Just grab it all, someone will use it."

Declan grabbed the papers off of the desk and stuffed them into a small bag he carried on his back. He pulled out every drawer and retrieved all the contents. When he had all the documents carefully secured in his bag, he returned to Mac, who had been positioned at the door waiting for targets to wander in front of him.

"We oscar-mike?" Mac asked as Declan smacked his left shoulder, stacking up behind the red haired operator.

Before Declan could answer, a burst of rifle fire echoed through the corridors of the ship. Both Declan and Mac thought the same thing. Declan quickly keyed his mic.

"Parker, you alright?"

A response came after several seconds, "Yeah we're fine Dec, just had a little run in with a knife wielding cook. We're clear down here, returning top side."

"Roger that, found some papers and charts, but that's it. Meet ya at the stairwell, out."

A minute later, the four men were together once more. Even though they had secured the ship, guns were still raised and facing outwards towards any possible threats that could appear. Parker triggered his mic once more.

"Viper Command this is Dagger-One, target is secure, green-light on Bravo, over."

Three hundred kilometers out at sea, the _USS New York_, a San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock, lay waiting. Upon receiving the transmission from Parker, a single V-22 Osprey that had been idling on the deck was launched from the ship. On board the Osprey was a ten man team composed of EOD members and other specialists from TF-303 that would tear the now captured ship apart.

"Dagger-One, Viper Command, ETA on Bravo is two-seven mikes, over."

"Roger that Viper Command, be advised, secondary target was not, repeat not found, Dagger-One out."

The four men let out a collective sigh of relief after hearing that their extraction bird was in the air and coming for them. Parker reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a cylindrical object. It took Declan a moment to realize what it was.

"That from the stash we found in Cuba," Declan asked as Parker flicked his lighter and lit a Cuban cigar.

"Only a dozen more after this one, I always save 'em for the special occasions."

"You call this a special occasion?"

"But of course, your first op in the big leagues Dec," Parker said as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

Declan let out a chuckle at the comment, for years he had thought he had been in the big leagues running ops with the SAS; apparently his instructor at Hereford had been wrong for all these years.

"Don't think this is normal," Mac said as he turned his head away from his sector and towards the group, "Usually this shit is pretty hairy."

As Parker took another drag on his cigar, his ear-piece, along with everyone else's, came alive, "One, this is Two, over?"

"Two, One, send it mate."

"We got a crowd of foot-mobiles approaching the pier, looks like trouble."

Declan, Mac, and Corbin all glanced towards Parker as they awaited his reply.

"How much trouble are you talking Jester?"

"Remember Shanghai?"

The reply was enough to cause Parker to flick his cigar overboard into the water and ready his C8 carbine.


	5. Repercussions

The man was alone, standing on one of the many rooftops in the city. He had been there for ten minutes, watching from a distance, the events unfolding on the pier. As he watched, he had opened the case that had been left with him, and began setting up a tripod with a digital camera fitted to the top. Once the camera was finally set up, he reached back into the case and retrieved a satellite phone.

He dialed the number that had been given to him by the group of men that met him in the city. After several rings, a voice came alive on the other end, "You have something for us?"

"Yes, let me talk to Petrov, he'll want to hear this himself."

He could hear the phone being shuffled around on the other side of the line, several moments later a voice came on, it was Petrov.

"What is it Sipho?"

As Sipho spoke, he raised binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the harbor closer. He could see a large crowd, maybe two hundred men advancing onto the pier. Opposing them, he could see less than a dozen men positioning themselves around the first warehouse on the pier.

"The soldiers came, right as you said. It looks like Zubeyr is sending his men to fight them."

"How many is Zubeyr sending?"

"Looks to be two hundred men, but there are also children and a few women mixed in the crowd."

A cold response, "Good. You know what to do once the time is right. Tell me if things change."

"Yes Petrov, I will," Sipho heard the line go dead.

After placing the phone on a table next to him, Sipho turned the camera on and began filming the crowd as they advanced towards the pier. Taking one last look through the binoculars, he could see one of the soldiers running from the ship towards his comrades at the warehouse.

* * *

Sweat was beginning to drip of Declan's forehead as he finally caught up to Parker, Corbin and the six other men of Dagger-Two. His boots clattering against the cement pier alerted Parker to his return.

"Mac in position," Parker inquired as Declan came to his side.

"He's all set up, so are some nasty surprises I left scattered around," Declan said referring to several claymores and C4 satchels he had placed around the pier in specific locations.

"Beautiful."

Declan nodded in return, "Any word on our extract?"

Parker shook his head slightly, "Still at least twenty mikes."

"Damn," Declan muttered, "So what are we going to do until then?"

"Right, everyone listen up, I'm making this quick," Parker shouted to the group, causing the eight men around him to circle around him.

"Jester," Parker began, "take Dunn, Sandler, Arnett, and Wade," each man nodded in acknowledgement, "cover the left side of the pier. Doc, your with us."

Parker quickly explained his plan to the men, Jester and his four men would cover the left side of the pier, while Parker, Declan, Corbin and Doc, would cover the right and also the water from where boats or crafts could be used to traverse the harbor and sneak behind the men. Mac had been left in an elevated position on the ship and would provide sniper support for the others as they slowly would fall back towards the ship. Parker hoped they could delay the advancing crowds long enough for the Osprey to reach them for extraction.

The two teams split up and took cover behind whatever they could find. Declan ducked behind a dumpster that was situated next to the warehouse. Parker, Corbin and Doc all found similar places around Declan, and not a moment to soon. Bullets were heard ricocheting off of the metal building not a moment later.

"Only target the shooters, we don't want any civies killed," Parker reminded the men as the crowd finally came in to view, a scant hundred and fifty meters from the men.

Declan checked his wristwatch, eighteen minutes, he thought as he toggled the safety to the off position. The anticipation was building, everyone knew that this was going to be a fight to the death.

As Declan propped his C8 on top of the dumpster to give him a steady firing position, he glanced to his right after seeing movement in the harbor. A small boat, the size of a dinghy, was bobbing up and down in the harbor as it tried to make its way towards the pier.

"Mac, targets in the water, right side."

Back on the ship, Mac had positioned himself at the bow of the boat. As he lay in his position, he realigned his weapon so his scope was trained on the boat approaching the dock. He quickly adjusted his scope taking into consideration the wind and distance and making the best quick judgement he could.

Mac hugged the stock of the rifle, an M110 SASS, placed the crosshair on the chest of one of the men in the boat, and held his breath. The crosshair was centered on the man's chest as Mac fired. A 7.62mm round exploded out of the barrel and propelled down range. It took less than a second before a large red circle appeared on the man's white shirt. The force of the round striking sent him tumbling backwards off the boat and into the water. Before the others in the boat realized what had happened, another of their ranks fell, followed by a third.

It was an unfair advantage Mac possessed over the men. There was no way for them to hear the shots or find the shooter, and the ten round, semi-automatic rifle, dispatched the six men in the boat in record time. The now unoccupied boat continued to motor forward unguided and crashed into the pier beneath Declan. The sound of wood breaking was hardly audible to Declan over the sounds of gunfire that had now erupted around him.

"One, we're bounding back fifty meters."

"Copy that," Parker replied through the tac-net before shouting to Declan, Corbin and Doc, "Pack it up, we're moving back with them."

The two groups of operators quickly retreated another fifty meters to the second warehouse. Declan looked down his sights and fired several rounds at targets just as they over took their previous location. By this time in the battle, the women and children that had been apart of the crowd as curious individuals had quickly fled the pier after the shooting began; all that remained in front of Declan were enemies.

Ducking behind the cover of the warehouse, Declan reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a small detonator. He flicked the safety cover off before shouting, "Fire in the hole."

He squeezed the trigger, sending an electronic pulse out to the three satchels of C4 and five claymores that had been spread out at the first warehouse. In the kill zone of the blasts, dozens of bodies, wearing no armor besides cotton t-shirts, were torn apart by hundreds of fragments of lead.

"Good shit mate," Corbin said as he stopped firing for a moment in awe of the fireball that appeared in front of them.

Parker took the momentary rest in firing to toggle his mic, "Bravo-Six-Two what's your ETA, over."

"Dagger-One we are ETA ten minutes, over."

"Very well, hurry your arse up. We're running out of pier to fight on."

It felt like the entire city was coming down around Declan. He remembered the stories of when the Americans were surrounded here. Now two decades later he was in very much the same situation. He wondered for a split second if they were going to make it out of this one. Khyber Pass, Fallujah, Singapore; the places he had fought, bled, and killed in, flashed through Declan's head. So many times the odds had been on their side though, not now.

_Go down fighting_, that's what his father had told him growing up in one of the rougher areas of London. It was that fighting spirit that made Declan join the British Army all those years ago. Now he was thousands of miles away from home once more, unsure about what would happen in the next few minutes that would decide his fate. Declan knew that his father was looking down on him right now, and remembered what he had always said, _go down fighting_.

Declan snapped out of his daze as he reloaded his C8 carbine once more, noting that he had four more magazines left. Popping out of the cover of the warehouse, Declan picked out several targets in the crowd and sent several well placed rounds their way, sending the targets to the ground, hard.

It looked as though the crowd was avoiding the narrower side of the pier that Declan was at and instead swinging left and advancing up the other side. As the gunfire continued to ring out around them, their earpieces came alive, it was Dunn.

"Wade's been hit, Wade's been hit," he screamed.

Parker ducked behind the cover of several steel drums, "What's his status?"

There was a moment of silence before the panicked reply, "He's dead, Christ he's got a fucking hole through his head, sir."

Declan saw Parker swear to himself as he lowered his head in anguish.

Declan did not know Wade personally. The two had gone through selection at different times and never worked together during their time in the 22nd. However in the few hours they had talked, Declan realized that Wade was liked by everyone. Always quick witted and not afraid to dish out the trash talk, the sergeant was well liked by all in the task force.

Declan still stared at Parker who was behind the cover. Declan thought the captain had froze up, but was quickly proven wrong as he started to shout out commands.

"Mac," Parker started, "meet us on the pier. Jester, fall back towards the El-Zed, take Wade with you."

Jester acknowledged the order and the four surviving members on the left side of the warehouse began to displace. Parker ordered Declan and the team to intensify their fire to make up the difference.

Declan had just fired three rounds into a target running towards them when he saw a man appear from a doorway carrying a large tube on his shoulder. The man knelt to one knee and pointed the tube towards the team. Declan and the man fired at the same time. The RPG streaked from the launcher towards them. Declan followed the smoke trail as the rocket tore into the cover that Corbin was ducking behind.

The blast of the explosion sent shrapnel in every direction. Declan was knocked to the ground by the blast as well as Parker and Doc, who were away from the point of impact. Corbin wasn't as lucky.

The rocket tore through the thin cover that Corbin had been behind, detonating a mere meter from the sergeant. Several of Corbin's limbs were ripped apart by the blast as debris was sent everywhere. The force of the explosion that had knocked everyone to the ground, had also sent what remained of Corbin's body flying backwards off of the pier and into the harbor below.

Declan was knocked out cold momentarily by the blast. As he came to, Parker was next to his side helping him up. Clothing on his arms had been ripped by the shrapnel but he was otherwise uninjured. As Declan stood up, the world seemed to move in slow-motion for several seconds. Parker was shouting but Declan couldn't make out what he was saying, his words distorted by the blast still.

Declan's arm was draped over Parker's shoulder as he was helped down the pier. The two passed Doc who was crouched, firing less than a meter from Parker. After a few more steps, Declan shrugged off Parker and motioned that he was fine. Parker dropped his hold on his friend and focused on the enemy behind him. The three operators double timed their retreat as they put as much distance between them and the crowd as they possibly could.

Mac, Jester and the remaining operators were gathered behind two technicals and a handful of dumpsters that they had quickly put together before the engagement began. Declan was the last to enter the safe haven and the moment he had cleared the line of fire, seven men opened up with everything they had to suppress the advancing enemy crowd.

"This is it gents," Parker shouted as he fired at the advancing mob.

Bullets pinged off of the pier, dumpsters, and technicals, as well as flying inches over the men of the task force. The operators were beginning to run dangerously low on ammunition. Each member knew however, to save one bullet, incase it was ever needed.

The mob was now less than one hundred meters from the operators position. In a few minutes, they would be on top of them.

"Last mag," Declan shouted as he slid the magazine into the rifle and stood to engage the targets once more.

"Same here," Mac echoed.

As their future looked to be sealed, a voice filled their earpieces, "Dagger-One, this is Six-Two, we are sixty seconds out, over."

"Six-Two, this is Dagger-One, about bloody time," Parker started as he stopped firing and ducked behind one of the dumpsters, "Danger close, recommend pick up at the north tip of the pier."

The reply came as a silhouette appeared over the water, "Copy Dagger-One, we're inbound."

Parker shouted over the gunfire for all the team to hear, "Mac, Jester, pop smoke now."

The two operators pulled a grenade from their vests and tossed them towards the crowd. After a moment of rolling across the cement, grey smoke began spilling out of them, obscuring the pier in seconds.

"Let's move," Parker shouted as he pushed himself up from the dumpster and began sprinting north along the pier towards the spot the Osprey would land.

The others quickly followed his lead. Every few meters, a member would crouch down and cover the six as the others raced by him, then he would get up and keep sprinting north. As the Osprey approached the pier, it quickly became a bullet magnet as rounds began striking the metal frame. The pilots ignored this nuisance as they focused on landing the aircraft on a thin strip of pier.

Declan was the first to reach the Osprey. Dust and debris were blown around by the two powerful nacelles powering the aircraft, hindering his sight ever so slightly. Instead of boarding the aircraft as instinct would normally dictate, Declan turned and covered his teammates as they made their way to the aircraft. Sandler was the first in, carrying Wade's body over his shoulders, followed quickly by Mac, Parker, then the rest of Dagger-Two.

The last operator left was Jester, who was still a dozen meters from the Osprey. As Declan fired his C8, the noise that every operator feared was heard, an empty clicking. He instinctively shoved the carbine behind his back as the strap held it against his body and pulled out his USP 45.

Declan just fired, not aiming at any particular target, but just firing for the sake of hopefully, somehow, that his pistol rounds would make some sort of difference against an AK-47.

Jester had reached Declan and shouted at him as he approached, "Let's get the hell out of here mate."

No sooner had he shouted those words, Jester's right leg crumpled as he fell to the cement. The veteran operator had been struck just above the knee only meters from his extraction.

Declan shouted a warning to the rest of the team, "Jester's down."

Without thinking, Declan rushed to Jester's side and reached down to help the man up. Mac had seen what happened and appeared at the ramp of the Osprey firing his last rounds at the mob as Declan helped Jester hobble into the aircraft.

The moment they were in the Osprey, the pilot powered the nacelles to full as the aircraft lifted into the sky. Declan stumbled at the immediate acceleration but steadied himself before he fell to the floor of the aircraft.

The Osprey rapidly gained altitude as it circled once around the harbor, taking into full account the damage that was done, before heading off to sea towards the _New York_.

* * *

Sipho continued watching the aircraft fly until he no longer could see it as it disappeared into the sun. Once it was gone, he moved on with his next task. Zooming the camera in on the ship, he could make out dozens of militiamen on the ship plus many more on the pier. Sipho waited several more minutes, waiting until a larger crowd had moved to the ship. This crowd included curious women and children wanting to see what had caused the terrible noise of battle.

Sipho reached into the case that had contained the video camera and satellite phone, and retrieved a detonator from the bottom. Extending the antenna on the device, he flicked a switch.

On board the ship, several tons of explosives had been placed in the lower holds in several metal cargo containers. The device sent a radio signal to the trigger mounted on one of the explosives. The ensuing fireball blew the ship in two pieces, split at the center. The ensuing fireball killed hundreds of the militiamen and civilians that had gathered at the pier. The explosion created a fireball so large, that the camera could not capture the entire blast in its view frame. The shock wave from the explosion pushed Sipho back into a wall and caused the building to shake around him.

The carnage was recorded on the camera, just as Petrov had intended it to be.


	6. Final Warning

The tape had been anonymously dropped off at a Sky News station in Kenya. Within hours, it was broadcasted throughout Europe, before quickly being picked up by other news stations around the world. A C.I.A. SIGINT substation in England had pirated the signal off of one of the dozen Sky News satellites in orbit. Before even the producers at Sky News saw the footage, Vance and his team had viewed it many times over.

He was disgusted at what he saw. Frozen on the television in front of him was the image of a V-22 Osprey flying away from a pier in Mogadishu. There was no denying it, the Osprey was solely operated by the United States, and the world media had jumped on this footage.

As he looked at the image, he tuned out the presentation that was going through intel _he_ had collected. Vance knew that this tape was no chance recording but rather a set up. Petrov knew they were going to follow him and knew even where to place the damn camera to get the best footage possible.

"Vance," the Deputy Director of National Clandestine Service shouted, "Vance!"

"Sorry sir."

"So would you like to explain to the Director what happened in Mogadishu, 'cause frankly I don't know what the hell happened there, yet I am briefing him in thirty minutes."

Vance cleared his throat and quickly shuffled through several papers before answering, "Well sir, Petrov was a step ahead of us, our men," he said referring to TF-303, "did everything by the book. We're not the ones responsible for the blast, but no matter what we say, it won't do any good. Petrov planned for this to happen."

"Here I thought you had this guy figured out. I was told you were the expert on this guy, that you could read his mind before he could. So why didn't you think this could have happened?"

"Hold on here," Vance said, becoming more defensive, "You're blaming me for what happened in Mogadishu? You can't blame me, or the guys on the ground. We reacted as quickly as we could to the situation as it developed."

"You've had a man on the inside for months and did nothing with that opportunity. Petrov could have been taken care of ages ago."

"That's beyond the point, we had more to gain out of keeping him alive. Three months ago we positively identified nine terrorists who would have entered the country unknown, with the intent of blowing up the lower part of Manhattan. Last I knew, Wall Street was still there."

"Now look where we are though, over a thousand dead in Poland, and God knows how many in Mogadishu. The worst part is, we look like the ones responsible for this," DD/NCS shouted as he pointed to the television screen.

The tempers of the two Agency men were flaring. No one else in the room dared to speak.

"Poland was tragic, I'll admit that, but Petrov was heading for a big deal. We learned that after the Poland incident. Hell Frank you read the report, Nikoli almost gave us the place it was going to be held."

"Yea, he almost did. Do you even have a clue as to where Petrov is at now, or are you just going off of Nikoli's last message about Pakistan, if that even was the message he was trying to get out."

"Nikoli was never off with intel he relayed before, not once, and I'm not going to start questioning him now that he's dead. That kid did more in the last few months, than most of you will do in your entire lives."

Everyone at the table exchanged glances with one another. Vance was right about that. Nikoli had done more than was asked of him many times, and now he was dead, killed serving his country. The only recognition he would get for his service, would be a nameless star on a wall.

The Deputy Director took a deep breath before calming, "One more shot Vance. If there's another fuck up like Poland, then you're finished. You got me?"

"Perfectly sir," Vance said as he pushed the chair out from underneath him and stood up.

He quickly collected the few papers and notes on the desk and put them in a file before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him, which caused several of the junior members in the room jump.


	7. Change of Scenery

The team had been transported from the _New York_ to the _USS Boxer_ a day after their raid on the harbor in Mogadishu. The _USS Boxer_, an amphibious assault ship, had just entered the AO the previous night, leading a fleet of a dozen ships into the Indian Ocean. On board the ships, were thousands of men and women from the 1st Marine Division.

Once the team had boarded the _Boxer_, Jester had been taken to the medical bay to have his leg treated. Doctors had told the team that he was not going to be operational for sometime, the round had hit his femur, shattering the bone into many pieces, some still lodged into his muscles.

As Jester rested comfortably in the medical bay, Declan and the rest of the team were confined to a small room designed for four junior officers of the United States Navy. Now seven men were confined to this small room until further orders came through for them.

"Where the hell is Parker," Mac blurted as he rolled his legs off the top bunk in the room, "he left an hour ago and still isn't back."

Declan forced his eyes open upon hearing Mac's voice, "What's it matter to you, not like he left us here."

"No, but he isn't stuck in a room with five other blokes right now."

"He'll be back Mac," Declan reassured him.

After several minutes of silence, Declan opened his eyes once more to see Mac on his feet shuffling around the room.

"Just what the hell are you doing Mac," Declan asked as he sat up in his bunk.

"I'm goin' for a walk, like join me?"

Declan groaned as he pushed himself out of the bunk to his feet. He slipped his boots on and joined Mac as he left the room.

Immediately upon opening the door, the two were met by a pair of Marine guards. The senior of the pair, a corporal asked where the two were headed.

"Goin' to get some food, if that's alright with you corporal," Mac retorted, emphasizing the corporal as he spoke.

"You men are not suppose to leave the room without permission from the captain, and you are to be supervised at all times."

Mac looked at the other Marine guard blocking the hallway, "Well there's two of you here, so how bout you," he said nodding at the private, "follow us and make sure we don't take over your little ship."

Declan was surprised that the Marine didn't punch Mac square in his smirking face, and was even more surprised when the Marine told his partner to follow the two of them. The three men began off down the corridor towards the food.

As Declan sat across from Mac, he glanced to his right and saw the Marine private still standing at attention next to the door. The Marine had not moved in the last ten minutes.

"Well atleast they do as their told," Declan remarked as he took another bite out of the ham sandwich he chose.

"Probably heard about your past and figured they needed to watch you especially."

"Well he's not here to keep an watch on your pansy ass," Declan said as a grin appeared on his face.

"Why you," Mac said shaking his fork before Declan cut him off.

"David," Declan shouted as he motioned to Parker who had appeared at the door.

Parker joined the two men at the table, snatching an apple from Declan's plate and taking a bite out of it. Declan glared at Parker but quickly shrugged the incident off as he began telling of some information he had gathered. After five minutes of talking, Parker asked the question.

"So who wants a trip to Afghanistan?"

* * *

A cold wind blew across the airfield as Declan stepped off the ramp of the C-17 Globemaster and into the mountainous region north of Kabul, Afghanistan. Declan was followed by Parker and Mac, each carrying their own gear off of the transport plane. Declan was glad to be off the plane, sitting next to pallets of munitions and supplies for five hours had not been a pleasant experience, but, as Declan remembered, he had been on worse rides in the past.

The three men moved from the parked aircraft towards one of the hangars that lined the airfield. Things had changed drastically since the last time Declan had been at Bagram Air Base. The once isolated base had now turned into a bustling city filled with men and women of the U.S. military.

Parker led the trio from the parked plane to the hangar marked B-3. The hanger door was cracked only two meters, preventing Declan from seeing in as they approached. Parker led them through the door, from the cold weather to a heated inside, the change instantly noticeable to the three.

Inside the hangar, were two Black Hawks in addition to several Apaches sat idle. Situated in between the aircraft, were several tables, charts and boards. Looking over the charts, were three other men. Declan recognized one of the men from his past. Before he could say something to Parker about it, Parker spoke.

"Hope we're not too late for the party Jonas."

The man Declan had recognized, looked up from the charts at the sound of Parker's voice, "Just right on time actually."

The man, a large African-American with a deep voice, set down the papers he was holding and walked from the tables to the trio, extending his hand to Parker, "Good to see you David, its been a long time."

"Several years if I'm not mistaken, Bosnia was it?"

"Sounds right to me," the man noticed Mac and Declan behind Parker, "new team?"

"Mac wasn't with us in Bosnia, but the leftenant here was," Parker said acknowledging Declan, "you remember Snake Doctor don't ya Dec?"

That's where he had seen the man before, a joint SAS-Delta operation some years previous. He had been with different men back then, but the man known as Snake Doctor was highly regarded by Parker.

"We're just reviewing our infill, bird's gonna drop us off ten miles outside the town, then we proceed on foot."

"Good, we narrowed down the meeting place yet?"

"Still searching for it, but our fixers on the ground are still working on that, we should have a solid location before we dust off in a few hours," Jonas said as he led the trio back towards the table.

The six men began looking over the charts and intel once more, the three Brits playing catch up to their American counterparts. Soon after grabbing a meal in the dining facilities, the six men changed into their desert combat fatigues and prepped their weapons and gear. As the sun began falling over the mountains in the west, one of the Black Hawks was rolled out of the hangar and pre-flight checks began.

Thirty minutes to midnight, the six men appeared from the hangar, walking silently towards the powered up Black Hawk. Declan was the last to board the aircraft, the crew chief slammed the door shut as soon as he was in. Final checks were confirmed and a minute later, the Black Hawk was rising in the air. As it gained altitude, the aircraft banked right, towards the Pakistan border, two hundred and fifty miles east of the air base.


	8. Surgical Strike

The six men moved silently in a staggered line across the barren landscape. The mountainous region of Pakistan was void of most forms of life save for some wild animals they had encountered since the helicopter had dropped them off two hours before. The rocky, unpredictable landscape only served to remind Declan why this was considered the badlands by the Americans that patrolled the region.

Declan was on point, twenty meters ahead of the rest of the team. He was aided in traversing the rugged landscape by the night vision device attached to his helmet. The goggles illuminated the darkened landscape, creating a shade of green, a shade Declan was all to familiar with.

The wind swept across the mountain with force, sending chills down Declan's spine as the cold air hit his body, seeping in around his eyes where the balaclava did not cover. Thoughts of home came to the front of his mind, as Declan remembered better days away from the cold and the fighting. Better days reminded Declan of his family, his mind began to wander onto that touchy subject as he continued walking.

Suddenly, the crash of a rock falling alerted Declan to the presence of someone or something ahead of him and the group. He instinctively dropped to one knee, and held his left hand in the air holding a fist. Parker and the others saw him drop and they too followed suit, dropping down and taking cover behind several boulders strewn about the mountainside.

Declan slowed his breathing, trying to stay as still and calm as possible. He had his C8 raised to his shoulder ready, and was now scanning the area looking for the source of the noise. From the green darkness ahead of him, he could hear more rocks knocking against each other, and then, voices were heard. The noises were far enough in the distance, that Declan decided he could whisper and inform his comrades of the situation.

"Voices," he mumbled, "fifteen meters over this hill, options?"

Parker and Jonas were hunkered behind the same boulder. The two looked at each other and with only a nod of a head, agreed on the same thing.

"Check it out," Parker whispered into the mic, "weapons tight."

Declan began to inch forward, careful with his step to avoid any noise that would alert the men below him. As he approached the edge of the hill, he found that he was ten meters above the men, on the top of what was a small berm. Below him, four men were huddled around a fire, with their packs and equipment strewn about behind them. Declan noticed the weapons within arms reach of the men, AK-47 rifles and what looked like RPG-7 tubes.

Declan slowly crept away from the edge and pressed against his throat where the mic button was located. A single chirp was heard by every member of the team.

Parker leaned towards Jonas, "They're armed and in our way."

Jonas looked at Parker, "Your man, your call."

Parker looked at Jonas for a moment before looking away and peering out from behind the boulder towards Declan. Raising his hand, he pressed his throat mic once, and again, a single chirp was heard in the earpieces of the men.

Declan crawled up the hill a second time to the edge. His spot overlooking the men below him was the perfect location. Declan got to one knee, trying to be as silent as possible as he moved. The men below were still talking, loud enough to be heard, but not distinguished.

Because of the fire below him, Declan had to remove his night vision device, the light was affecting his vision and now was the time to be precise. After flipping the NVD off his face, he looked down the sight on his C8, placing the red holographic dot on one of the men lying near the fire. At least they were all lying down, making them easy targets.

Two rounds struck the first man, his body jerked underneath the blankets as the rounds impacted his body. It wasn't until the second was shot that the men knew what was happening. A single shout was heard before the area was again silent besides the crackling of the fire. Declan waited in his position for another minute, waiting for any stragglers that may appear from the surroundings bush.

Once he was satisfied the area was secure, Declan pressed his mic, "we're clear."

The five others got up from their positions and moved to rejoin Declan at the top of the berm. The five men appeared at the top of the hill with Declan, overlooking the small campsite that was below them, the fire still flickered in the night, illuminating the dead men.

"Cool Breeze, Betty Blue," Jonas said from the perch, "check it out."

The two American operators moved to the right and began working their way down the berm. The two Americans checked the bodies before searching the bags and equipment that were lying around the site.

The one named Cool Breeze looked up from the camp to Declan and the others above him, "Well whoever they were, they were packing some pretty heavy hardware: AKs, RPDs, RPG-7s, enough to have a little party."

"Looks like we were the party crashers," Jonas said, "we're coming down, proceeding on mission."

"Roger Snake Doc."

The six men formed up and proceeded forward, continuing with their mission. It would be several more hours until they were at their target, and by that time, the sun would be up and their movements would be severely restricted.

* * *

Several hours later, the team was in position overlooking the target. The town was void of life, but as Declan looked closer through his binoculars, he could see that there were several men moving around near the few buildings that were standing. Several trucks had arrived thirty minutes before, but there had been nothing else besides that.

"You sure we have the right town Mac," Declan asked.

Lying next to Declan, staring down the scope on his M110, Mac replied, "This is where the fixer told the Yanks, besides, this looks pretty shady don't ya think?"

Declan agreed, the scene in the town below was pretty shady. The small town was situated at the bottom of a valley, surrounded by mountains on three sides. Besides the several men moving around, never straying far from one particular building, there were no other signs of life, the town was deserted.

The six men had split into two teams, the Americans were several hundred meters to the north of the town, while the Brits were on the western edge of the town. Both teams had eyes on the town constantly.

Twenty minutes later, and the sun was blazing down on the men. The clear blue sky offered little in the way of cloud cover, bad for two reasons; they wouldn't be protected from the sun, but more importantly, the metal frame of an MQ-9 Predator would reflect the sun in all directions, possibly alerting anyone who may happen to glance up. For this reason, Parker had the Predator moved back towards the border, three minutes of flight time away.

Declan had taken his eyes off the building for a moment when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed dust being kicked up in the distance. He raised the binoculars to his face and looked at the approaching dust cloud.

"We got somethin here," he said as he focused the lenses, "three vehicles, high speed moving towards the town."

Parker repeated the report over the radio, alerting Jonas and the American team. The six men focused their attention on the vehicles as they approached the town. As the occupants exited, they were greeted by the men already around the building. Two of the occupants were approached and patted down by the guards.

As this occurred, Parker remarked as he lowered his binoculars, "Bloody hell, is that Makarov?"

After looking again through his binoculars, Parker keyed his mic, "Snake Doctor, be advised, we have an High Priority Target on site."

"Who is it?"

"Makarov," Parker said, "Petrov's number one lieutenant, nasty bastard he is."

Declan watched as Makarov entered the building with his associate. The seven men that arrived with them stayed outside with the others that were already there.

"Definitely a meeting, looks like our intel was right on," Parker observed.

As the British team continued to observe the building, Jonas got on the radio with the command element at Bagram, "Variable, Snake Doc, eyes on target, proceed with mission?"

"Snake Doc, Variable, you have a green-light to proceed."

With permission granted, the Predator drone was brought online by a portable system the team had. One of the American operators took control of the drone and set the flight path towards the town. The drone would be in position to launch in three minutes.

Declan continued watching the building, the men were still standing outside guarding the premise. The two factions of men, each man armed with some sort of weaponry, kept their distance from the other group. Suddenly, the heads of all the men turned and gazed towards the building for a moment, before returning towards their counterparts. Rifles were quickly raised and muzzle flashes could be seen from the British position. The two factions were firing on each other. The combatants ducked behind the cover of trucks and buildings. From the perch, Declan could see five bodies already on the ground.

Parker shouted into the radio, "Snake Doctor is the Predator ready to fire?"

"Almost, is the target lazed?"

Parker looked towards Mac who flashed a thumbs up as he held a small device directed towards the building.

"We've got a good lock, send it when you can."

As the events unfolded around Declan, he continued to watch the ensuing battle below him. The battle had not lowered any but rather rose in the intensity, neither side backing down from the fight. Suddenly, from behind the building, a single white truck burst out of cover and sped off away from the firefight.

"We got a bogey leaving in a hurry," Declan shouted.

"Was it Makarov," a worried Parker asked.

"I can't tell, at least two people in the truck though."

Parker let out a vulgar curse, as Jonas' voice filled the radio, "Ordinance away."

Twenty thousand feet above the action, the Predator drone released two Paveway laser guided bombs. The two bombs automatically adjusted fins to correct their flight path as they sought out the infrared dot appearing at the bas of the doorway to the building. One five hundred pound bomb exploded in the doorway, followed less than a second later by another.

The men around the building were killed instantly by the explosion. The building and whatever was in it was also destroyed by the blast. The small town was completely leveled by the strike. The only thing surviving that made it out of the area, was the white pickup which was far enough down the road to avoid the explosion.

"Snake Doctor can the Predator follow that truck," Parker inquired as the column of dust continued to rise from the town below.

"It can follow the truck, but it was only armed with the two bombs, no other weapons on board."

"That's fine, just follow that truck and see where it goes," Parker looked at Declan and Mac who had sat up from their prone position and were surveying the damage, "pack it up, we're leaving."

The three men quickly packed their equipment and met the Americans at the rally point. The team radioed Bagram to inform Variable they were moving to the exfill point. After hearing the extraction bird had been launched, the men began their trek away from the destroyed town and towards the rendezvous point.

* * *

"Talk to me colonel," Vance said as he put a headset on and adjusted the mic so it was in front of his mouth.

Looking at the monitor, Vance could see the image of a U.S. Army colonel appear as the connection was made. Passing through several encrypted satellites and ground installations, this link was one of the most secure in the world, one of the benefits of the C.I.A.

"The ground team just called in," the colonel began.

"How'd it go?"

"They observed a meeting take place between Makarov and unknown associates."

Vance cut the colonel off before he could continue, "Well that's great, so we took him out?"

"Not exactly, a firefight erupted before we could drop ordinance, a single truck escaped."

Vance smacked the table in front of him, "Damn it."

"We did follow the truck to the outskirts of Peshawar, but we had to leave the airspace, and we lost it."

"Very well colonel, pat the boys on the back once they get home," Vance signaled to kill the feed.

The video link was cut as the monitor lost the image of the colonel and turned black. The mission hadn't been a failure, Nikoli's intel had been right, and sighting Makarov meant that whatever was happening, was going to be big.


End file.
